005

There is something strangely comforting about waking up in your parents house and hearing your Dad working in the backyard. Listening to his grunting when he moves something heavy, or hearing the small comments under his breath. Then this rushing sound, and you know he's watering the planters or hosing off the patio. He'll stop and give the dog some loving good-girl's, and you can picture this big yellow lab sniffing and surveying the area Dad's working in. Most likely, Dad is wearing that sad straw hat and the jeans we wish he'd never wear. He'll come in through the sliding glass door, sweaty, and say something witty like: Oh, Mary. You'll just die when you see my new paving stones! I can hardly stand it!

Oops. Just now, Dad let out a low, warning "Minnnie?!...." Sounds like the dog is standing on dangerous, freshly-landscaped ground.

Just last night, Dad and I were brainstorming on vocal warm-ups for twangy country singers. The falsetto-break exercise. The scooping exercise. The over-emphasized "r" sound exercise. Yes, we thought we were very funny.

004

First a couple updates. I got a job. I'm very excited about it. I have a new nephew. His name is Isaac, and Leanne, Isaac's mom, is my hero. He was born last Sunday. This is a happy time.

Still home in California with the folks. Last night, I found an historical nugget in a box stored in the closet of my old bedroom. I saw it from a distance: this fabric, floral covered journal. My journal. From 1984. Reading the mind of Mary at age 10 is unbelievably comical, tragic, and explains indeed so very much. Ohhh, the drama. It's pretty good, but not as good as my journal from 1990. Freshman year. I found that and read some to Laura. We were particularly moved by the line: "My life is like a carousel spinning out of control! Who will slow me down?!"

I love old journals. I should probably archive my blog entries.

003

Sitting here, once again, in an airport. This time I'm on my way home to visit the fam. If I'm this close, and without job, I may as well get in some family time. Plus I'm desperate for a father's blessing. (Non-LDS friends: Dad holds the priesthood in my faith, and can give special blessings to his children. They've meant a great deal to me over the years.)

I was with a couple girlfriends the last night I was in Boston. We talked a little about the things we don't allow ourselves. I was telling them that I don't allow myself to feel anger openly. My friend said she did the same thing, only with sadness. These emotions make us feel weak. They felt like "should-not" feelings. And so we don't express them. Sometimes we don't even know we're having them.

My anger tends to come out in sarcasm. If you've read my blog, maybe this is apparent to you. Or, even worse, about every two years or so I have a complete blowout. A lash-out, a temper tantrum. I go off in a rage. I throw things, I scream, I get really crazy. And then I feel so incredibly awful aftterward I want to die. My most recent one was last month. And it was horrible. So I bought a book, and I started being honest about my inability to express anger and crap like that. And now instead of looking at my tantrum as something despicable, I'm starting to see it as an inevitable consequence for not dealing with it honestly.

I also think this blog (or rather, the last one) was an outlet for that anger, albeit a more civilized but brassy one. I admit I like my snark sometimes; it feels cathartic to be snarky. But I also want to be able to assert myself in person genuinely, not just cyber-sarcastically.

I've been trying to see all the different ways in which I distance myself from others, and eliminate them one by one. I've learned that my mismanagement of feelings is a huuuuge barrier. But I wouldn't have thought that it would be. Finally, I've reached a place where my need to connect overrides my need to be safe and sound.

I went to one of the university wards for church yesterday, and had a wonderful experience. I don't know what I was expecting, but it far exceeded those expectations. I came home feeling charged and optimistic about my new digs, and my ability to thrive therein. I'm hoping this will be the place where I try all this stuff out, all my new and improved life skills. Push back the temptation to stand alone and independent, soften, and reach out in openness. Oh man, I really hope I can do this.

002

Week in Summary:

• Left my home of nearly five years
• Moved across country
• Shopped ShopKo for the first time (sale on shampoo!)
• Consumed 3 Jamba Juices (and that's just the beginning, baby.)
• Had five interviews, two of them for the same company
• Had two rather awkward first dates (will this misery please end?)
• Read 160 pages of teen vampire drivel and liked it
• Acquired three blisters from two different pairs of heels
• Suffered three bloody noses (the dry climate of my youth...alas, I had forgotten.)
• Inhaled one large box of Hot Tamales
• Loaded in four heavy boxes into my new house which arrived via mail
• Cried only once

Yeah, I'm pretty wiped.

001

I think I counted forty-three copies of "Breaking Dawn" in three different airports today. Wait, forty-four. I forgot to count my own. Which would you rather be seen with at an airport: A celebrity gossip rag, a book of easy word search puzzles (because crosswords are too frustrating, and you like to circle stuff,) or an over-celebrated high school vampire romance novel? I swear, if I read the words "stone," "marble," or "mmm," one more time, I just might not like reading this book anymore. I'll still read it though. I am ashamed. Don't look at me.

So today I came unbelievably close to vomiting in the back of an airplane for the very first time. It happened between Long Beach, CA and Las Vegas. Perhaps it was the stench of collective moral decay combining with the concentrated number of plastic perky parts smeared with tan in a can, all sitting facing one direction for forty-nine minutes. Or, I don't know, maybe it was the turbulence. Either way, I had to literally talk myself out of throwing up. With my head down, and my frame glazed in a thin sweat, I carefully swallowed back what would have been the story of the century for the OC housewives ready to party at The Palm with their greasy bo-hunks. I could just explain that I'm bulimic and win them all back, probably. It was getting pretty intense toward the end. I prayed: okay...either this plane lands, and I mean like now, or my turkey avacado sandwich is about to be worn by Twinkly-Toes Half-a-Dress sitting next to me here. Thankfully, the plane did land shortly thereafter. Awgh....avacado. Talk about a Ralph Rodeo.

Got picked up at the airport and taken to my new digs in Salt Lake. Yaaaay! Even met the new roommates tonight. Yaaaay! Tonight, I'm going to sleep in. Tomorrow I'm going to hit the temp agencies, replace the shampoo TSA threw out this morning (seriously...one lousy ounce over the limit?) and maybe do some sight-seeing. Hey, as long as I'm feeling good I'll work it. Plenty of time for the panic attacks and cry-fests later.